


Image Sent

by thecatsred



Series: Behind The Lens [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Nude Photos, Phone Sex, Sexting, accidental dick pics, alcohol mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 08:48:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11249715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecatsred/pseuds/thecatsred
Summary: Who ever heard of a lucky wrong number?





	Image Sent

**Author's Note:**

> Please note this is part 2 of a series featuring Hanzo who is a hobbyist camboy. 
> 
> While it can technically be read on its own, there are many mentions of happenings from the previous entry. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Jesse sets his phone on his stomach and leans over to his side table, turning on his lamp for additional lighting. Sending dick pics wasn’t normally his go-to flirting option, but the guy at the bar earlier seemed more than a little interested. He’d given Jesse his number after all, with a wink and a quick request to see what he’d be working with. That alone promised another meeting. Preferably one with more interaction this go around.

He works himself up quickly enough, not looking to ease into things. He’s a man on a mission tonight. Plus, who’d he be if he chickened out? If this guy’s for real, he’d expect something from him, and well, Jesse plans to deliver. He grins, running his thumb over the head of his cock, getting it nice and shiny for the camera. With his arm outstretched, hand resting on his thigh, if he angled his phone just right...

_Snap!_

Jesse allows himself a little bit of cropping and some lighting fixes before he’s sending the photo to the number he got along with an accompanying winky face. He tucks one hand up under his head and uses his other to scroll down his phone, waiting.

Not even two minutes later, he gets a response back.

**[Unknown]**   
Who is this?

Which has Jesse frowning at his phone. Shouldn’t it be obvious? Who _asks_ for a raunchy photo and then plays dumb? He grumbles and rolls over on his stomach to reply.

**[Me]**   
...Jesse?

**[Unknown]**   
You don’t seem so sure of that.

**[Me]**   
it’s Jesse

**[Unknown]**   
You have the wrong number.

**[Me]**   
shit, sorry   
just delete this

**[Unknown]**   
I think I will. The photo is clearly photoshopped anyway.

Jesse scoffs. Who the hell said shit like that? Rude! He’s responding before he can even weigh the pros and cons of getting into an argument about his own dick with some complete stranger. But his pride is on the line!

**[Me]**   
what!! No it ain’t!

**[Unknown]**   
Prove it then.

Jesse lies there for a moment, glaring at his phone. Who was this asshole, just demanding proof like they were _owed_ something? Why would he lie about this!? Ridiculous!

His phone buzzes again.

**[Unknown]**   
I’m waiting...

Well, fine! Jesse huffs, rolling over just enough to tilt his hips to the side, letting his cock rest red and angry against his soft sheets. He makes sure the lighting from his lamp casts deep shadows and highlights his assets. He needs the added drama. He’s got a point to prove here. _Snap!_ He sends the photo first, then quickly sends another message.

**[Me]**   
proof enough for you???

He’s left on read for a solid six minutes at least while he’s idly rolling his hips against the bedsheets and tapping the side of his phone, waiting. He isn’t sure what he’s waiting for. Not really. Validation? Acknowledgement? Just when the situation starts to feel outrageously immature, his phone buzzes. He’s clicking on the message in an instant.

**[Unknown]**   
I believe you.

**[Me]**   
took you long enough   
what were you doing??   
touching yourself?

Another long silence, and Jesse grins, feeling like he’s won. He flips over on his back, resting his free hand on his stomach and opening up his phone browser to find something good to get off to, since his earlier plans have fallen through.

**[Unknown]**   
Yes.

Jesse stares, his heart suddenly pounding. Oh. _Oh_. He tries to decide if he’s going to reply. Before he realizes, he has ‘show me’ typed out but unsent. His phone buzzes, startling him, a multimedia attachment loading. He brings his phone closer to his face, erasing what he wrote.

The photo downloads, Jesse taking in every little detail like a man possessed. In it, a man lies on his stomach, his face out of the frame. He’s holding his phone in his right hand with it held out above his body. Jesse can see some of his hair spilling across his shoulders in the top of the shot, his back muscles caught mid-shift, shoulder blade pressed in from his twisting angle. His left arm is pinned against his own bed under the weight of his toned body, and this same arm is covered in an intricate, winding tattoo of a dragon. The top half of the man’s ass dominates the foreground. There’s a tease of color there, suggesting that he’s got something in his ass, a toy of some sort, Jesse guesses. It’s got him hot all over.

Then his brain catches up, and Jesse goes from elated to getting a photo back, and a _nice photo_ at that, right back to angry in the span of a few seconds. He growls, typing almost faster than his phone can keep up.

**[Me]**   
don’t fuck with me   
this aint you   
just delete my number if you’re gonna be a dick ok   
sorry I sent you that photo   
but you don’t gotta fuck with me

  
The response is instant.

**[Unknown]**   
Of course this is me. Why wouldn’t it be?

**[Me]**   
I know who this is, and it ain’t you

Jesse watches as the other person types for a long time, pauses with nothing, then starts typing again. He grabs his water bottle from his side table and takes a swig, waiting. This’ll be good. Can’t pull a fast one on Jesse McCree, no siree!

Finally, a response, albeit not the one he expected.

**[Unknown]**   
You’re a fan of mine?

Jesse frowns. What the hell is this person trying to accomplish?

**[Me]**   
I know you’re not EncoreOkami, so I dunno who you’re trying to fool, sweetheart

**[Unknown]**   
I can prove who I am. Test me.

Jesse scoots up on his bed, erection forgotten for the time being. Now he’s curious, and ready to catch someone in a blatant lie. This should be fun. He thinks about the multitude of stills offered on EncoreOkami’s website, trying to come up with something strange and not at all his certain style. The man was nothing if not consistent. He kept up with his brand, and his brand has a certain...flair to it. Jesse hums, tongue peeking out of his mouth just a touch.

**[Me]**   
sit on your floor. Lean up against your bed and grab your cock, make a little ‘okay’ hand sign around it, then take a picture

Jesse smiles to himself, pleased.

**[Unknown]**   
Interesting choice, give me one moment.

And so Jesse waits, staring at his phone like it held all the secrets to the universe. He figures he stumped the other person, and lets himself feel victorious for half a moment before his phone buzzes again, and another photos starts downloading.

To his absolute surprise and genuine horror, the photo is exactly the nonsense Jesse asked for.

The same man from before sits cross-legged on the floor, another tease of whatever he has in his ass a little easier to see, but still obscured from view by his legs. His right arm is once again out, holding the phone in front of himself, the top of the frame cutting him off at the collar bone. His left arm is in his lap, thumb and forefinger circling around his cock and the rest of his fingers lift in an arc, making the requested ‘okay’ sign.

_How in the hell…?_ He turns just a little, eying a wadded up napkin he’s kept on top of a book he plans to read...at some point in the future. No, really.

That was almost two weeks ago now, the run-in on the bus. He now knows EncoreOkami lives in his area, by some sort of miracle. But...being given the man’s _actual phone number_ as a fake number just seems...too good to be true. He scrubs at his beard, the nervous feeling from earlier welling inside him. He has to be sure before he can make an informed decision about this situation he finds himself in.

**[Unknown]**   
Was this not to your satisfaction?

**[Me]**   
No! It's almost too good to be true…

**[Unknown]**   
I assure you it's true.

**[Me]**   
can you give me some classical hands?

**[Unknown]**   
…   
What?

**[Me]**   
y'know, classical hands. the paintings!

**[Unknown]**   
?

**[Me]**   
hold on

Jesse swings his legs over the side of the of the bed, switching his phone to camera mode, and turning on the front camera. He props his phone up against something on this side table, making sure his face isn’t in frame. It takes him a few times, timing the mini countdown on his phone to get his hands how he needs them to be without everything terribly blurry, but he’s finally satisfied enough with his example to send it.

**[Me]**   
like this!

**[Unknown]**   
You have excellent chest muscles.

**[Me]**   
thanks, but not what I asked for

**[Unknown]**   
This is ridiculous.

**[Me]**   
Backing out?

Jesse waits a few minutes for a response, eager. If this guy is who he says he is, well.

Well.

Actually, Jesse has _no idea_ what he plans on doing if this ends up being EncoreOkami. He’s basically been rude this entire time, from the get-go, to a man he... _admires_ greatly. Hell, he’s easily spent several hundred dollars on the guy already, and they’ve never even met. Not properly, anyway.

Speaking of…

Another message comes in before he can continue on down that line of thought. The attached photo is of the man’s hands in a similar pose to his own, with his own flair added to it, because _of course_ he’d try and show Jesse up. His hair spills down over his shoulder, accenting the detailed lines of his tattoo. Jesse stares.

And he continues staring. For a long time.

**[Unknown]**   
Have I lost you?

What a strange way to phrase things. Jesse slowly settles back on his bed, turning to curl on his side, head against his pillows. _What now?_

**[Me]**   
you haven’t posted my request yet

He hits send.

Then the panic grips him.

Oh, _fuck_ . He’s gonna look like some stalker creep. A freak. Why did he entertain this conversation? Why didn’t he just delete the number? He pulls up his browser frantically, trying to see how to unsend messages. He absolutely does _not_ yell when his phone goes off.

**[Unknown]**   
The tail plug?

What?

He almost sends ‘no’ before stopping himself. The less Okami knew about him the better. Let him think he was into his tail plugs (he is) and not the guy asking for-

**[Unknown]**   
Wait.   
The bus?

Jesse bites his lip. His cock’s still hard, neglected now as it is, and gives a hearty twitch at the memory. It’d been a sleepy morning ride to the market. He just needed to pick up some eggs and lard, of all things. But, once he caught a glimpse of that tattoo, those shorts, he knew. And he couldn’t look away. Even with the camera aimed _at him_ he kept watching. Like seeing an idol in the flesh, just a little...erm. Different. He presses his face into his pillow, exhaling, and slips one hand down between his legs.

He doesn’t touch himself to get off, at least, not yet. He’s just...holding on, fingers curled gently up around the underside of his balls, thumb resting along the top of them. He stares at his phone, at the last question he’s received.

**[Me]**   
yeah   
I liked your haircut

He closes his eyes. _Idiot._

**[Me]**   
thanks for the souvenir

**[Unknown]**   
How did you get this number?

Ah, here we go.

**[Me]**   
guy at a bar snubbed me   
gave me a fake number   
ain't no creep, honest

Radio silence. He can’t take it.

**[Me]**   
look, you can block me   
no hard feelings ok?   
I realize this is creepy

He is about to send an ‘I’m sorry’ when another photo starts to come in. He holds his body absolutely still on the bed.

The photo is of Okami lying on his bed, turned slightly on his side. One of his thighs is out, his knee taking some of his weight. His ass his on full display, perky and round and oh so absolutely perfect in Jesse’s eyes. The toy teasing him the last few pictures now entirely visible. The base of the toy has a dramatic, wide flair that spreads his cheeks, showing him off. He's got his hand on it, fingers tugging, making it pull against his pink rim. Jesse chokes a little. This was a hell of a power play.

With no other message forthcoming, Jesse takes the hint, sweat prickling under his arms and along his hairline. He sucks in a shaky breath, flipping his phone to the camera, and tries to think of something good to send. He comes up with a resounding _blank._ The dick pics used up pretty much all of his finesse and creativity. He wasn’t some _professional_. He didn’t get paid for this kind of stuff.

He looks down at his cock, frowning. The tip peeks out from his foreskin, a bead of pre forming and threatening to roll down onto his sheets. It’s impressive, sure. He won’t deny that. He’s gotten plenty of compliments over the years, even if most folks weren’t too keen on actually...doing much with it. The rest of him though…

Jesse groans, rolling over on his back and spreading out flat, arms at his sides. He’s not sure what’s expected here. He knows Okami is probably waiting for a response. A text, photo, anything. All he’s got going for him, really, is the memory of his eyes on Okami as he worked himself over on that bus...that’s what really got the other man off. It’s why he got the gift on his table. It’s entirely possible it’s the reason he got the last photo at all instead of a block.

Okami knows what he looks like, if he remembers. He’s got Jesse on film somewhere. His computer, or maybe still on his phone, private. The thought should bother him, but it doesn’t. He’s interested. In some way, he wants Jesse.

Okay.

He could do this.

He taps his phone again, getting things ready. He lifts himself up, placing his phone on the bed and angling it in such a way he could get his pecs in the frame. Okami did compliment him earlier. He’s willing to work with whatever he’s got. His other hand goes to his shaft, fingers pulling the skin and revealing his red cockhead to the air, the pre finally succumbing to gravity and leaving a slick line on the way down. He curls over himself a little, making sure not to disrupt his lighting. _Snap!_

His cock takes up much of the screen, thick fingers holding it up since it’s much too heavy to stay like that on its own. His furry stomach and chest are at the top of the photo, one of his pecs in the background, nipple erect, surrounded by whorls of his chest hairs. There’s a light sheen of sweat over his skin. He looks at his photo for a long while, feeling self-conscious in a way he hasn’t in ages, and takes a moment to adjust some lighting before sending it over. If he overthought this, he’d never get anything done.

Like Okami did earlier, he sends the photo with no further comments.

And waits.

His fingers gently play back and forth over his cock where he had it resting along his stomach, his mind carefully blank. Anything else would work him up into a panic.

He waits some more.

Then his chest feels tight and he can’t wait any longer. His thumbs pass over the screen quickly.

**[Me]**   
you burn me up, you know that?   
seeing you on that bus   
realizing it was you..   
Fuck, sweetheart, it took everything in me not to move over to you   
get that beautiful cock of yours in my hand   
hell if I could get away with it, I’d suck you off   
there’d be no mess to clean up after that

He pauses, heart pounding and face aflame. Not having any idea what Okami was up to is killing him. He squeezes his eyes shut, pulling his legs up so he can plant his feet on his bed. His cock rolls to the side of his stomach, settling by his thigh, and drips pre lazily down in a sticky line along his hip. He passes his fingers through it and brings them to his mouth, sucking on the digits greedily. His tongue plays around the rough pads in a cruel mockery of what he really wants. What he’s never going to have.  

Jesse whines, his fingers falling from his mouth. He brings his hand down to his cock and pumps it a few times, wet now from spit and pre, his hips pressing up into his movements out of sync, chasing any sort of friction he could muster.

His phone buzzes at his side once, twice, and by the third time Jesse realizes with a start it’s _ringing_ . Someone had _very_ bad timing. Holy hell.

Jesse grabs his phone, fumbling with it as it buzzes some more, not even bothering to look at the screen.

“Hello?” He says, voice a little rough. He clears his throat and swallows.

There’s a very soft noise on the other end of the line, then a deep, rich voice he’d recognize anywhere filters through. “Hello.” The voice says, smokey and half wrecked. Jesse breathes heavily through his nose, face going deep crimson.

_Fuck._

_Fuck!_

“This is Jesse, is it not?” The voice, no, Okami asks, sounding as nervous as Jesse felt. Somehow, that makes him relax. He isn’t the only one doing something crazy here. He nods in response, then, feeling foolish, replies properly.

“Y-yeah. Jesse, that’s me.”

A sound of relief comes across the line, and Jesse closes his eyes. “Ah, good. Good I’m...glad.” A pause. “About your, hnn - y-your request. I still h-have some editing to...to do. It should - ah - be posted next week.” Besides the gruff way Okami talks into the phone, which drives Jesse wild, there’s more of that soft noise again in the background. The next he hears it, the man on the other end cries out oh so gently, and Jesse understands. He understands very well.

“You’re fuckin’ yerself, ain’t’cha?” Jesse says in amazement.

There’s a pause on the line before a soft, “Yes.”

“ _Shit._ ”

“Yeah,” He agrees, sounding pleased with himself.

Jesse sits up, back pressed against his headboard, hand going back to his cock. “How big’s that toy?”

There's a slick sound. “Um. Big.” Comes the answer.

Jesse swallows again. “Looked big in that picture. Spreads ya open real pretty like.”

“Feels good, Jesse.”

Well.

Okay.

“Bet it does, sugar.” Jesse chokes out, holding onto the base of his cock meanly. Listening to this was gonna be the death of him. “Let-” His voice falters, sounds too harsh. He takes a second to steady himself. “Let me hear ya.”

No sooner does he get the words out does he hear Okami’s breath hitch, a low groan ripping from his throat. Jesse can hear his pushed out sounds, knows from a strange sort of experience he's fucking himself on the toy rabbit-quick with shallow thrusts meant to leave him begging for more.

He's gasping and moaning unabashedly now, having gotten permission. Of a sort.

Meanwhile, Jesse’s just trying his best to coordinate his hand and his brain, and coming up short. His mouth starts moving of its own accord. “Yeah baby, jus’ like that. Get in real deep. _Fuck_ , but I'd be so good to ya. Y'know I could reach all those places yer lil’ toy can't, sweetheart.”

A whine bubbles up on the other end. “ _Hanzo,”_ It’s said forcefully, and Jesse is about to ask when, “My name. Hanzo. C-call me by my name.”

_Hanzo._

Jesse whispers it to himself first, grinning. “Hanzo.” He repeats, getting a pleased noise in return. “Alright, Hanzo,” He starts, shoving his phone between his ear and his shoulder, leaving his other hand free. “Put your phone on the bed an’ turn back over on yer stomach, it’ll go deeper like that.”

All he gets in response is a deep chuckle. “I am not holding m-my phone. _Amatuer._ ” He says the word like an insult, but it lacks any bite. “Headsets are….mm...a very, _very_ useful invention.”

Jesse’s other hand makes its way to his chest, tweaking one nipple into a hard bud. He’s still fucking up into his fist, but has slowed his pace, unwilling to come before Hanzo. “Hell, you’re more experienced at this than I am.”

“I h-had better be.” There’s a muffled scraping noise, a huff, then Hanzo moans again, loud and unashamed of his volume. Jesse has to hold onto the base of his dick to stop from spilling too early. This man was to be the death of him, he is certain.

“You ‘boutta come, honeybee?” Jesse asks, voice almost vibrating with nervous energy.

“Mmhm…” Hanzo shifts again, another soft noise coming from his throat. “‘S not my name,” He slurs, sounding like he’s got his face pressed against his sheets.

“Sorry, sorry!” Jesse gets out. “You can come. I wanna hear it.” He exhales. “Wish I could be there an’ see it, but _shit_ , Hanzo, knowin’ yer doin’ this ‘cause‘a me is... _real good_.” Jesse starts to pump himself in earnest, wanting to chase Hanzo to that end he’s been putting off for over an hour now.

“Ha!” Hanzo laughs. “I was doing t-this...long before I got your p-photo. But it was...nice.”

Jesse closes his eyes, tilting his head back on his headboard. The way Hanzo said _nice_ should be illegal. There were so many layers to the word there that Jesse doesn’t have the brainpower to work through for the time being.

Hanzo makes some sort of keening sound, cutting it off with an almost panicked, “‘m close-!”

Jesse can feel it, his eyes still closed as he pulls at his cock almost meanly - _nearly there!_ “C’mon, Hanzo. Come for me,”

There’s a sharp noise from the other end, then, “Jess-ah! Fuck, f-fuck….hah…” Jesse comes shortly after, unsure if he makes any noise or not as he absolutely covers his thighs with his own spend. He’s left shaking and oversensitive, taking his hands off himself and letting them drop to the bed. Hell, but he could use a nap.

There’s really only light breathing coming from his phone, and Jesse’s chest starts to feel tight. Now that his mind’s a bit clearer...where does he go from here? He nervously clears his throat. This seems to do the trick.

“Mmm, apologies,” Comes the reply, Hanzo fucked out and drunk with it. “‘M going to hang up now, Jesse.” He sounds apologetic, if nothing else.

Jesse cannot find it in himself to say anything, he just waits for his phone to automatically cut the call.

Well.

He should have expected this, really. Not like this internet sex god’s going to entertain some asshole who got lucky in the wrong number lotto. Even with the logic there, the hurt still wells up in his stomach, making him feel a little ill, souring his nice afterglow. He sits there for a moment more, wallowing, before deciding he needs to clean himself up.

After mustering up the energy, Jesse slides off his bed and makes his way to his shower to wash away all evidence of this...this mess he’s gotten himself into. He makes sure to take his time under the hot water, scrubbing at himself a little more forcefully than required. He grumbles on his way back to the bedroom, a towel around his waist, his hair up in a small ponytail to keep the wet strands off his neck.

He grabs his phone and wakes it up, intent on checking the remaining battery life, when he notices a few more messages sent to him. Some are only a few minutes old, and Jesse’s lips quirk up at seeming them. A quick addition to his address book helps with things. The first message is a little overly formal, all things considered.  

**[Hanzo]**   
Sorry for hanging up like that.   
You must know I don’t do this with my fans, and I don’t plan on making this a habit.   
Please do not give out my private number to anyone.

  
Jesse scrolls down.

**[Hanzo]**   
That is to say, I would not mind knowing you better.   
There are good restaurants in the area.   
If you’re up for it, of course, I don’t want to seem forward.   
I’m unsure of your intentions but I enjoyed this.   
Would hate for this to be the last we hear of each other.   
Or...at least for me to hear the last of you. I still have things to upload, naturally.   
Let me know.

Jesse types out a quick reply, knowing Hanzo is probably full of regret and second thoughts if he’s anything like himself. He doesn’t want to leave him waiting.

**[Me]**   
okay. when and where? I’ve got to work this Sunday

Jesse can almost feel the palpable relief coming from the other man.

**[Hanzo]**   
No problem, would this following Tuesday evening work? 8?

**[Me]**   
should do! let me know where

**[Hanzo]**   
Of course. I will forward the reservation information in a few days.   
Thank you, for tonight.   
Even if it was accidental. At first.

**[Me]**   
anytime

**[Hanzo]**   
I’ll hold you to that.

Jesse signs off with a quick ‘goodnight’ and plugs his phone into the wall, setting it on his side table for later. It’s late, it’s _been_ late, and he wants to sleep on this. Too much happened for him to process properly at three in the damn morning.

With that thought, he rolls over under his blankets and promptly passes the hell out.

 

\---

When Hanzo wakes up the next morning to his shrill alarm and the morning light stabbing him in the eyes, he quickly hides his face under one of his pillows, groaning in agony. His head throbs, his tongue heavy and mouth tasting foul.

He blearily smacks around for his phone, cursing at it in all manner of colorful and inventive ways. He turns off the alarm, not even totally awake, when he notices he has a message. Was Genji texting him at odd hours again to bother him? He frowns, opening up his messages and seeing someone in there titled ‘Jesse, probably’.

What the fuck?

He clicks the thread and as he reads the last few messages, he goes from half alive to _very much awake_ in a matter of minutes. “Oh shit,” He barely scrolls a little further up, seeing part of a photo of himself and quickly turns off his screen.

“Shit!”

He scrubs a hand down his face, looking guiltily at the knocked over sake bottle and his cups, the wasted lube on the floor, and the toy just tossed in a pile of his clothes. _Shit._

“Drunk Hanzo,” He mumbles at himself, shaking his head. “Why…?”

He chances another look at his phone, nervously reading his last few messages. Apparently he’s asked this man out. And he agreed. Hanzo frowns. The only places he knew were places he took clients, not...not _dates!_

Well, he figures, moving stiffly to his desk, better start doing some research.


End file.
